Five Times a Fool
by SeeingBlu
Summary: Five Times a Fool or A Cold Sort of Night: A late-night AkuRoku ficlet. "Perhaps, then, this is a dream." Lots of introspection on Roxas' part. Lots of atmospheric nighttime goodness.


**A/N Hello all! This is a very old AkuRoku ficlet that I realized I had forgotten to put up here. It was my very first stab at KH and maybe even my first real fic; although it's more of a drabble, to be honest. . . **

**Still, I hope you all enjoy and – as always – R&R is hugely appreciated. **

**Disclaim: Do I really have to do these things? STILL?**

It was a cold sort of night. Not to mention windy. And icy. . . Hell, it was just plain nasty out. The dark didn't make it any better, either. Unseen _blocks_ of ice flew through the air at an incredibly high speed, so fast even Xigbar would be hard pressed to hit one. On this night – this dark, icy, and unbelievably lonely night – I just couldn't seem to fall asleep. Tossing and turning in my bed was where it began. I was awake now and I half lay, half sit and stare out a large, regal window. My head lolls back in exasperated fatigue and I think about this castle and my place in it.

There's them: Xemnas, Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Saïx, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene. And then there's me: poor little Roxas; the one who tried to run away from home. I wasn't exactly welcomed back. Dying, running away, coming back to life, and then trying to run again – in that exact order – aren't the things that seem to strengthen bonds that you previously attempted to sever. . . Except for one. The one that tried to save me all along.

Axel is an anomaly. He is cocky and clever but at the same time he seems to be such a caring, affectionate sort of person. He was the only one who'd welcomed me home because he'd brought me here . . . brought me back from the dead. No amount of past deception would ever be able to ruin that. In all honesty, if it weren't for Axel, I'd still be Sora. I shudder, even under the bed's heavy covers; I hate that name. I hate that other me. I don't know why, but even when I was stuck in that awful situation, I could feel. Could hate. And I did. Avidly.

I hated that persona for stealing my life – even if it was "for the good of the universe" as Namine had told me. I didn't care. In fact, before him, the Heartless were under perfect control. If the fates had not deemed it fit to destroy the Organization by bringing him back, none of this would have happened. I would not have to battle Xemnas daily over organizing even the simplest of tasks. I released a loud puff of air and fell back, looking at the ceiling.

They always say that we're just empty. "The empty shells of lives taken by the heartless." But that can't be true. We feel things, we really do. Hate. Love. Disgust. Desire. Envy. Arrogance. Lonesomeness. Friendship. I know because I've felt these things. So you cannot tell me I don't feel. Also, I have felt human emotions (thanks very much to my time as Sora) and I can say that they do not compare. Human emotions are weak when put up against that of a Nobody. I am _not_ an empty shell. If anything, I am a wholly separate entity from "Sora." I am my own being, free to do as I wish.

It is, at this point, that I realize I wish to wonder the castle some, to familiarize myself with it again. Besides, it doesn't really look like I'm going to be getting much sleep tonight. One last glance at the window and the covers are gone and I'm feeling ridiculous in how I start to shiver almost instantly. Damn this place is cold. I stood up fast, trying to get blood flowing through my body in order to dispel the cold and I immediately wished that I had warmer pajamas. In the end, though, I just started moving; hoping that I would come upon a heater or a fire while taking my tour of the castle.

My feet padded quietly across the cold, white floors and I danced a little trying to stay warm. So what if I looked like a fool? No one was going to see me. Even the night owl Saix and the book worm Zexion were long asleep. Reassured by this notion, I used the confidence to stride through the halls with purpose. Walking with purpose to nowhere. . . How odd. I reached the kitchen and stopped, puzzled. My room was the farthest from this very popular location and I didn't think I had been walking for so long. I would have had to have been walking for at least 5 minutes, even at my pace (which was why I usually had to run there), but I only remembered about 50 seconds of the walk. My apparently warped sense of time made me curious about what time it was, and I looked towards the clock in the corner of the large, open room. My brain asked for several seconds to assess exactly what the numbers meant and I gladly obliged. Even though I couldn't sleep, it didn't mean I wasn't exhausted in every way.

My mind finally cleared enough for me to understand the clock. The small hand was pointing towards the figure "VII" . . . Ok, 35 about, then. But what 35? The large, fatter hand of the clock was pointing in the more general direction of "IV", but I somehow knew through the haze clouding my brain, that that really meant three. 3:35. . . There would be at least four hours until any light was visible, but more likely than not it would be five or six more hours until daylight came. Not that daylight was really all that light. Here in the World That Never Was, day was just like a lighter type of night and night was an all-consuming, liquid type of dark. I would have frowned a little longer over the darkness, but suddenly my stomach growled and I thanked my feet for taking me to the kitchen.

There was a large fridge on one side of the room and a pantry on the other. Part of me was tempted to go to the pantry and get something sweet, but another part wanted to deny the sweet tooth._ Well, too bad for that healthy part_, I thought as I turned toward the pantry. I opened the door quietly, knowing full well it would be my head on a platter if anyone caught me. I stuck my head in and looked as far in as I could. The reason stealth was of the utmost importance was because I was attempting to steal cookies from the overbearing and very violent Larxene. She threatened any who dared to get in her way with bodily harm and, by God, she delivered. The only thing special about her cookies was that no one was supposed to know about them. Larxene could be rather vain and how would it make her look if anyone were to see her eating high sugar, high calorie Oreos?

She kept them tucked away in a compartment in the back of the huge, walk-in pantry. I knew this because I had inadvertently discovered them on another one of these late nights. The trick, though, was never to take too often lest she discover I knew her little secret. As soon as I was sure no one had heard me open the pantry, I stepped inside and let the door nearly close behind me. I allowed myself one more paranoid moment of silence, straining to detect noises that weren't there. In a flash, I was at the back, moving a loaf of bread and someone's protein shake, to reveal a marble panel that didn't match up. Even in the dark, I could see that it was a little different in color and shape than the rest of the wall. My fingers found the edges and I attempted to lift the panel off, but it seemed to be stuck. "Damn," I whispered to myself. Those cookies would have been nice. . . Wait! And there it was: a hole in the wall. Somehow, I had found the wrong panel to lift and completely missed the _real_ panel . . . which was open.

I panicked. If the panel was open, someone else was awake. If the panel was open, that 'someone else' was Larxene. If she caught me in here, scoping out the cookies – I shudder at the thought– it would most surely be the death of me. So I panicked. My eyes widened and my pupils dilated, my back hunched and my muscles tightened. I could hear my quickening heartbeat in my ears and sounds that didn't exist came to my attention. Damn you, survival instincts – making me look like a fool again. I tried to stop and take a deep breath, to think and to breathe and to realize that no one was here to get me. Yet.

Despite the momentary sense of false security, I knew that I didn't want to get caught awake this late at night stealing cookies or otherwise. As I was presently seen only as an obstacle to daily life here, I assumed that being found lurking around the castle at night wouldn't really help my reputation; if anything, it would just give someone reason (or rather, justification) to kill me. . . I would have sighed had I not been so wary of whatever second presence was wondering around, but for now, I just looked in a forlorn manner to the cookies, sitting exposed and delicious on the shelf. This reflection only lasted a moment, however, for I heard a click and was gone – out of the pantry, out of the kitchen, and into the hallway opposite that which I entered by.

This hall led to seven of the bedrooms of the thirteen being used, of the hundreds of empty ones in this massive structure I call home. I don't know exactly who resides on this side of the castle, but I know I'm safe because Larxene is on my side of the kitchen, only closer to it. I vaguely remember taking a trip down this hall once, most likely before I left and know this is where Xemnas and Zexion reside along with Axel. Luxord was also in my hallway, as was Demyx, but I couldn't recall the places of the others.

The sounds of my footsteps were my only companions and the only thing that seemed to tie me to this plane. I was so gone that I knew somebody here had to be smoking _something_, otherwise, how could I feel so detached from reality? Perhaps adrenaline and exhaustion don't mix that well. . . _What does it matter, though?_ I think as I drift in and out of my own personal world. _I am. And that's all that matters. As long as I remember this fact, I will continue to exist, as I always have._ This dreamy sort of distortion of my Earth and time dull and numb the cold around me, so I do not take notice of my frozen feet and purplish lips. My body doesn't even shiver – it, too, seems to reject the notion of sensation.

Perhaps, then, this is a dream. Perhaps I have stopped walking and have fallen hopelessly asleep in the middle of a hallway. I am growing quite comfortable with this thought as I come upon a faint glow of soft, warm light at the end of a seemingly endless passage. Is the corridor actually lengthening before me? Is this really a dream? _Does it matter?_ I seem to have endless questions for myself tonight. . . Apparently it doesn't matter, though, for I have nearly come upon the pool of golden heat and my person has not objected.

I can see now that the light is spilling out from a doorway and I become curious about what lies within the room. I have nothing to fear of whatever person is beyond it, for this is only a dream. I am not hasty, however, to find the great secret. It seems that in my dream, I have found some sort of sage wisdom telling me that hurry only wastes time. And so I walk. I walk at a steady and sort of measured pace. I came closer and closer to the door, but never became nervous. I look innocently down at the light in front of me, as if it is some sort of pitiful creature I have simply happened upon and decide I ought to get this dream moving and turn towards the thick wooden door.

It is open enough for some light to escape, but not enough to see clearly inside. I tilted my head and looked on, as if the action would allow my thoughts to sift and tumble about in my head. My actions may have had an effect, for I moved forward in a sort of senseless, meaningless manner. _One foot in front of the other. . . There, there, now you're walking._ I stopped before the entrance and suddenly, my curiosity pushed on and I felt an unyielding need to open the door.

My body moved, once more, of its own accord. I couldn't help but notice how pale my hand looked in this icelight. How oddly fluent its movement as the handle turned soundlessly under its guidance. I must've twisted around briefly, for I know I looked again upon my little pool and then to the door. The simple wooden door now seemed a portal to some other world; I could feel the warmth emanating from the reddish glow behind it – not at all like the harsh white and cold, brittle air out here in the never-ending hall.

I let my fingertips linger on the cool metal if only to remind myself that I was leaving the cold for something kinder, something more hopeful. My eyes shut for only a moment as warm air billows around me, ruffling my nightclothes and hair a little. Ah, how pleasant this feels. . . I inhaled the welcoming sensation of . . . _sensation_. I caught the scent of something sweet burning, the taste of something organic and salty, and the soft crackle of whatever it was that was being burned. It was so pleasant to feel like I halfway belonged in this room. . .

My eyes opened to the room and I see my new companion. No. Not really new. He's been here, waiting for me all along. My one and only friend –the ticket out of my nightmares – is sitting quietly, toying with a ball of flame in the air. Axel looks peaceful for himself. Usually rowdy and, to some extent, obnoxious, he now seemed to have found a kind of serenity within his little fireball. The warm red glow seemed to warm my joints, which felt like they had been locked up in ice. The smell it produced was not that of a typical fire; it smelled sweet and earthy, like soil and summer breezes. . .

Sweet and red. How odd that a description of blood can actually be that of something so comforting as well. . . Then again, how bad is blood? It runs through all of our veins. It keeps us alive and breathing and warm. Oh, so warm. . . I inhale the scent again and I know Axel must know I'm here because he has begun to smile. I smiled not quite in his direction, returning the feeling. His green eyes flickered my way and flickered just as quickly back to the fireball.

I looked away and at the walls; they seemed crème in the light of the fire, instead of their usual unforgiving, sinless white. Even the black veins in the marble glowed with a soft hue and sparkle. But it was not merely fire that could do this. No, Axel's fire was special. Though it was a weapon, in part, it brought a new life and understanding to things, just like its maker. All my pondering was allowed to cease when he spoke:  
"What are you doing up so late, Roxas?"  
I have been silent for so long tonight, I fear my voice won't work. "Can't sleep."  
God. What a pathetic answer. Though it may have been the truth, I couldn't stop mentally berating myself for saying something so clichéd. _Fourth time I've looked like a complete fool yet tonight._ I scowled inwardly at my unprofessionalism. The least I could do was evoke the implication of DIGNITY.  
"It seems that makes two of us. . ." Head cocks to the side as he examines the flaming air again.  
"I suppose it does," I spoke quietly, a new question rising to my tongue, "How did you end up in this part of the castle? It's so far away from the rooms."  
He considered his creation carefully before answering. "I think I was waiting for someone."  
"Who?" I was genuinely interested now; a late-night meeting, seemingly forgotten by a participant.  
"Someone I care about." His eyes were still turned toward the glowing orb, but I knew the statement was exceedingly direct.  
"Do they care about you? They seem to have abandoned you out here."  
"I hope they do," he looked up at me in the most pleading manner. "For I think I love them." He softened a little, but continued, "Deeply."

I was completely consumed with this odd new information. Unrequited love, perhaps? I would hate to see my friend's heart broken . . . it would break mine too. I moved to where he was sitting on the floor and took a seat next to him, criss-crossing my legs in a childish and innocent gesture. "They care for you, too. I know they must." Words now flew from my mouth without my consent, but they seemed rational enough.  
"I'm glad you know. I was afraid you never would." He looked at me again and I fell onto his shoulder, yawning.  
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but who are you waiting for?" I drawled a sleepy sentence, seeking further support from my companion's shoulder.  
He sighed and yawned with me, "I think . . ." He began sleepily. "I think I was waiting for you all along."  
My eyes felt heavy and sleepy, but I managed a dopy sort of smile. "I'm glad I showed up. I never want you to be all alone in a depressing little room in a too-big castle." I was fading quickly, but somehow the conversation lived on for a few more brief phrases.  
"It's not depressing or lonely with you here." Even Axel's bright emerald eyes were losing their glint as tiredness took over.  
I said nothing, for my vocal chords seemed to have drifted off and Axel shifted, so we could sit comfortably against one another. His hand was growing limp attempting to keep the firelight from extinguishing and pulling us into liquid black. It looked so beautiful as it began to fade – the way its tendrils reached out to nip at the dark in one last defiant act – I simply had to express my awe. So I smiled even wider, for both the fire and my friend. A goofy grin, to be sure, but a well-deserved one. _One last foolish act_ . . . but one I do not mind. . .


End file.
